


Souls And Hearts And Minds Intertwined

by beware_phangirl (dantiloquent)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: First Dance, Fluff, M/M, Songfic, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dantiloquent/pseuds/beware_phangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong><em>summary: </em></strong>it’s a songfic for all about us by he is we and owl city. it’s literally just them dancing at their wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Souls And Hearts And Minds Intertwined

**Author's Note:**

> _**an:** title is from dodie clark’s ‘pas de deux’ and i love it a lot. this was prompted on phanfic and eden tagged me in it so._  
>  _i am utter phan trash bye_  
>  _this can be seen as a sequel to[here we go](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3550997)_  
>  you can also read on tumblr [here](http://pianoboyhowell.co.vu/post/114873437506/souls-and-hearts-and-minds-intertwined)  
> also: the html really wasn't on my side today, couldn't get the whole part of the lyric to go in italics so :///

__

_Take my hand, I'll teach you to dance._  
I'll spin you around, won't let you fall down.  
Would you let me lead? You can step on my feet.  
Give it a try, it'll be alright  


Dan hasn’t really danced before. He’s slipped his feet over carpet in time to jagged rhythms, and he’s swayed his arms and whole body around in roughly fluid motions. He’s casually danced to the radio while getting food, and he’s pounded his feet and head at concerts. He’s danced with Phil, kind of. Dark had pooled on the window sills, the sky had been cold, and Phil had been slumped on the sofa as another song slipped from Dan’s crackly phone speakers. So Dan had pulled him up and convinced him to dance, to prove Phil’s claim that he couldn’t dance wrong, and to stir the air up more. They had danced, and the ‘kind of’ was because their own motions skipped close to beats, and it was a joke based on sleep deprivation and the accidental consumption of caffeine. Dan tugged Phil gently through giggling spins, Phil stumbling over Dan’s feet and Dan stumbling on Phil’s. A few songs passed and Phil had loosened up until they weren’t really dancing, just twisting and sending shadows flying onto the blank walls. Until their breaths were patched together like the spontaneous choreography.  
But he hasn’t really danced like this.

-

He could, if he is feeling profound and pretentious and he is starving for poetry, say that he’s dancing through life. But a metaphor and a Wicked reference doesn’t help him here. 

-

And he doesn’t know why he’s feeling so nervous, anyway. He’s had as much experience as anyone else, added to the living room sessions late at night that have increased in frequency lately. The hall’s long beams tower over a space dotted with family members and friends, all of them standing, their patience accompanied by unquestionable smiles and their spines backing up against the wooden staircase. The venue reclines in the countryside, the fresh atmosphere of the view through the expanses of glass spilling into the hall in the form of wood and fairy lights dangling off banisters. Wedding dances can be funny and bizarre, and their one is simple, so there is nothing to fear; no one’s here to judge him, and everyone knows he doesn’t do ballroom in his spare time. Yet, his chest inflates with deep breaths and his palms are clammy as they lay against Phil’s.

-

“So, spill; what’s the song you’re using?” Jack asks as he comes up beside Dan, the large grin plastered on his face pushing at the frame of his glasses. He’s lost the blazer and indigo flower, but his crisp, white shirt is still tucked into his dark trousers. “It had better be Kanye West, Dan, or I will be severely disappointed.”

“I tried, Jack, I really did,” Dan says apologetically. The nerves ebb slightly in turn of a laugh. “I said to Phil that I didn’t want to let you down, but he wasn’t having any of it.”

“Yeah, well, you also wanted to do the invitations using Comic Sans, and I didn’t want to agree to that, either,” Phil pipes up. His eyes are lit up in the soft lense flares. He’s also wearing a monochrome suit - and Dan’s seen him in formal attire many a time, but this is his favourite by far.

“Mate,” Jack says, pretending to back away with raised hands and wide eyes. 

“I was joking, you little shit,” Dan nudges Phil in the side.

“Half of you was joking,” Phil squints up at him, “The other half of you is all for it.”

“Ouch,” Jack contributes. “Right, so anyway, what is it? I’m dying to know over here,” he jabs a thumb behind him at the rest of the room. Everyone is chatting happily in the open space, the percussion of vowels the only sound in the room. “Everyone is, in fact.”

“Spoilers,” Phil warns, raising his eyebrows dramatically.

“What he said,” Dan agrees with a nod of his head.

“You’ll find out soon enough, anyway. I think,” Phil hovers on the word, glancing over the many heads to where the hired band is. The speakers, hooked to a disc player for the first song, are drowsy dots in Dan’s vision as they sit at the back of the stage. He continues, “that we are about to go, right Dan?”

Dan’s head lifts quickly, the temporary calm in his abdomen folding away. “Right, yes.”

Jack grins again. “Great!” He claps Dan on the arm, “Good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” Dan mutters as Jack retreats and the couple start to wind their way forward. The whisper evidently reaches the cusp of Phil’s ear, because his nails dig into the creases of Dan’s palm, he squeezes his hand so hard in a sign comfort.

-

__

_The room's hush hush and now's our moment._  
Take it in, feel it all and hold it  
Eyes on you, eyes on me.  
We're doing this right.  


-

Some sort of signal washes over the room like a faded thunder clap, everyone falling silent and eyes burning into Dan’s back as him and Phil find the centre of the floor. It’s made of polished wooden slats pieced together in a puzzle, and the soles of his shoes slide and squeak over them.

Phil’s hand finds Dan’s waist, the other looping with Dan’s spare hand as he mirrors the action. The room is made silent to make way for music. When their hands are tangled, and when Dan tries hard enough - when he focuses on Phil - it can feel like they are the only ones in the room. The few seconds seem to conform to ethereal minutes, like an hourglass is stunted; they hold the other’s gaze solidly. Phil swells like aftershave and warmth.

The tune starts, building up. Phil’s face breaks out in a grin - and, if Dan’s honest, he knows that when Phil smiles, he does, too.

-

__

_Suddenly I'm feeling brave_  
Don't know what's got into me  
Why I feel this way  
Can we dance real slow?  
Can I hold you real close?  


-

There’s a slip of space between them as they start to sway, and part of Dan wishes they could do something different, rather than the classic ,em>a slow dance? fuck it’s so boring. But, at the same time, it feels so lovely to hold Phil and just cut himself off from everything else, and it’s easy to do with the shift of Phil’s suit beneath his fingers and his eyes centimetres from Phil’s. The apprehension simmers out of his skin and his smile, his chest instead filled with some sort of infatuated need that Dan had thought he had said goodbye to back in 2009. Maybe it’s the way Muse swirls over the cusp of his ear and clogs his brain; maybe it’s the way Phil nudges him with a tap of his foot and increases his grip on Dan’s waist and hand. Either way, Dan feels brave. Brave in the way that the gazes don’t matter anymore, in the way that he doesn’t care. So maybe he shouldn’t call it brave, because it’s not courage and he’s not about to make a leap of faith - but he’s doing something he was scared to do seconds previously, so he figures it can count. And, anyway, when it’s with Phil, he thinks he can call it anything. (The confidence settling in his chest because of a certain person has nothing to do with it.)

Dan tugs Phil closer; he presses their chests together and adjusts the positions of their hands to form a sloppy tango position. The way their hands are tangled like plaited dress ribbons ignites flaws and sparks in his skin. He feels the sudden need to kiss Phil at every moment possible, so he brings their lips together and smiles and they discover that it’s near impossible to kiss while dancing and laughing, but they try anyway. Letting go of any formalities, they start to swing their arms up and down as they step and spin in messy circles. It’s a sloppy form of dancing, like it’s another late night dance session in their lounge, when popcorn would stick to their socks and Phil would complain about how he could smell Dan’s shampoo as he played his hands through Dan’s hair. They step on and between the kaleidoscopes splayed across the floor, and as Dan dares to look, he can pick out beloved faces laughing along with them. (The dance reminds Dan a bit of Harry and Hermione, but he tries to push aside his fanatic tendencies for now.)

-

__

_'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love_  
Spotlight's shining. It's all about us  
It's all  
About us  
And every heart in the room will melt  
This is a feeling I've never felt  
But it's all about us  


-

Their first dance ends, and Dan pushes away the attention of the rounds of applause to hug Phil tightly. Phil kisses him another, lingering time.

They step to the side of the room again as the next song starts and the guests move to the dance floor. There’s a tap on Dan’s shoulder, and he turns to see PJ, unruly curls put in place and traces of ink splattering his fingers. PJ will be PJ, after all.

“That was great, guys,” he congratulates with a wide toothed grin.

“It was nothing special,” Phil responds modestly.

“Excuse you,” Dan sniffs.

“You know what I mean! It wasn’t exactly Strictly standard, and you know it.”

“Your problem is that you’re too humble, Phil,” PJ says, laying a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “The whole point of it is that it’s too damn sentimental and homelike.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Here we go.”

PJ laughs again warmly, raising his hands in surrender. “That’s all you’re getting, so you can shut up. Are you guys gonna come back out and dance?”

“Of course. I need to teach Phil how to do the macarena properly,” Dan answers, sliding his arm farther around Phil’s waist.

-

They do a cheesy jive with Louise and a happy clappy sequence with Darcy. The music is a mash of modern and dance alongside near-unbearable tunes from the 90’s which Dan hasn’t heard in ages. The band plays live covers, and he takes breaks from the dancing to chat with anyone who approaches him. Dan’s glad they didn’t resort to their _let’s just put this on shuffle and use whatever plays_ technique, and he tells Phil as such. He takes it back as another 90’s track comes on. He hasn’t had to do the ‘cha cha slide’ in years. Phil tells him that he should be _grateful that he gets to revisit it, then_.

Near the end of the night, as the dark grows thicker and more and more guests disappear, a song which Dan associates with cold hands and faded coffee rings comes on. He finds Phil amongst the bodies, but Phil pulls him in close before Dan even has to explain. And afterwards, Dan has to ask if he’s been eating the cake and _did you think I wouldn’t taste it, Phil Lester?_

_Do you hear that love? They're playing our song  
Do you think we're ready? Oh, I'm really feeling it  
Do you hear that love? Do you hear that love?_


End file.
